


Colours of Life, Colours of Joy

by pixie_rings



Series: Let Love Grow [6]
Category: Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: Fun with non-Christian festivals, Holi, I'm almost on time too!, M/M, Spring, and look
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-16
Updated: 2014-03-16
Packaged: 2018-01-15 22:56:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 963
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1322377
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pixie_rings/pseuds/pixie_rings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Magenta, cerulean, vermilion, ochre, viridian, aquamarine, cyan, gold, crimson… Jack pokes at some of it curiously, and it stains his pale skin pink.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Colours of Life, Colours of Joy

**Author's Note:**

> I started this, like, forever ago. It took me ages to finish it. I've been very busy lately, no time for fic.
> 
> I am also happy to inform you I'm working on the next chapter of Join the Dance. 10 points to Dumbledore!

Jack has no idea where they are. He’s been following Bunnymund through tunnels for what seems like forever, riding on currents as the Pooka races ahead, following his own, secret path to whatever it is he’s heading to. When Bunnymund had popped up by his lake and asked him out, he’d been expecting their usual chase, a sparring match, something silly. Now Jack’s bursting with curiosity.

“We’re here!” Bunnymund announces, opening a tunnel over their heads and hopping out.

Outside, it’s bright, noisy and people are singing and dancing. A few children wave and giggle, and Bunnymund nods back with a grin. From the looks of it, they’re in India.

“We’re visiting Tooth?” Jack asks, the tunnel closing behind him as he lands next to Bunnymund. He’s somewhat puzzled, because they each have their own way of reaching Punjam Hy Loo, and this is nowhere near it.

“Nope,” Bunnymund says mysteriously, and darts his way through the crowd, surprisingly agile for a creature his size, never touching anyone. Jack decides to go the easy way and glides over their heads, following Bunnymund like a shadow, just in case he gets lost. Not that he’d be able to miss those ears anywhere, but still… the place is packed tight.

“So, why are we here?” he asks, hovering when Bunnymund comes to a stop near a stall covered with… huge plates of coloured powder. Piles and piles of it, in every colour of the rainbow and then some. Magenta, cerulean, vermilion, ochre, viridian, aquamarine, cyan, gold, crimson… Jack pokes at some of it curiously, and it stains his pale skin pink. It’s all over the place, at every corner, and now Jack can feel it… there’s the buzz of anticipation everywhere, the expectancy of fun that he can taste, it’s so strong, spicy on his tongue. There’s a storm of fun about to break. Jack’s eyes light up with it, the spark darting through his own veins, electrical.

He’s knocked from his thoughts, though, by a fistful of powder to the face.

“Bunny!” he complains, opening his eyes. The Pooka’s paw is a vivid, acidy green, and he’s grinning like a madman.

“C’mon, ice block, you just gonna let me have all the fun?” he asks. “I thought that’s what you were all about.”

Jack’s expression turns mischievous. He seizes a handful of coral-coloured dust.

As soon as he throws it, all hell breaks loose.

People are laughing and shrieking, throwing the powder all over the place until they’re stained with all the hues of the spectrum, hair, skin and clothes a living paint palette. Bunnymund and Jack are no different. They play to their own beat, weaving and darting here and there, and Jack whoops as he catches Bunny’s shoulder with fuchsia. The Pooka makes good use of his tunnels, Jack’s hair turns a bright, electric blue, and all around them are clouds of colour, like an exploding rainbow.

It’s amazing, vibrant chaos as they dance among the crowd, catching a glimpse of each other and throwing powder that way. Sometimes they get each other, sometimes they miss, but it doesn’t matter. Acid green, pink, scarlet, bronze… Bunnymund’s fur is stained polychromatic, Jack’s a spotted mess of colours, and there’s breathless glee on the air between them, their own, on a different wavelength to the people around them. They’re always fine-tuned to each other anyway, and the magic of adrenaline and joy is what eventually makes Jack launch himself at Bunny through the crowd, topple him over, laughing brightly.

Bunnymund catches him, they roll, and he’s laughing too, head thrown back on the dusty, rainbow-splattered ground and arms wound tight around Jack’s waist.

“Watch out, Cottontail, the kiddies might see!” Jack teases, sitting up. Bunnymund’s like a palette, and it’ll take forever to wash it out of his fur, but it’s worth it. Seeing Bunnymund so loose and easy, with such merriment in his expression, it’s amazing. He leans down, kisses him, heedless of the crowds and the children and the noise and the flying powder, and Bunnymund kisses back.

They both taste considerably icky, which makes them laugh again.

The party continues into the night. Jack steals a plate of curry, using his filthy fingers and not caring. Bunnymund just takes the rice. They take to a rooftop to watch the mass of people, the music and dancing. It’s Jack’s favourite thing in the world. Everything's alight, noisy, reverberant and full of pure fun. It runs along Jack's spine, surging through his veins like liquid electricity.

A few children waved at him when he searched for food. He's abuzz with the energy, the sheer colour, light and joy of the celebration and of fresh belief. The curry tastes like summer heat and a hundred spices, the chicken thick with flavour. The rice is white and fluffy, like solid clouds, and tastes clean on his tongue.

“I missed Holi,” Bunnymund says with a fond smile. “Haven’t been here for years. Brought spring, but… never stopped to enjoy it.”

Jack snuggles up to his side, licking spice off his fingers, his tinfoil plate abandoned to the side. “Glad I could bring some fun back into your life, old man.”

Bunnymund laughs and curls an arm around his shoulder, the sound of singing and laughter as background music. It's comfortable, joyous, and amazing and Jack could stay here forever, watching the ebb and flow of revellers and feeding off their delight. Bunnymund sniffs the air suddenly.

“Spring,” he says. Jack tries sniffing too, but he can just smell the people and the food. Bunnymund can feel the growth of the world, but Jack can't, and sometimes he wishes he could. But it's enough to be here, now, together, centres entwined in mortal festivity. It feels good.


End file.
